Mischief Night
by schizophrenegenic
Summary: It's the thirtieth of October, 1975. In America, children spend the evening egging houses and smashing pumpkins. In England, MWPP feel the need to get in on the action.
1. Chapter 1

**Mischief Night**

**CH. 1**

"Well, I _did_ tell you not to add the murtlap yesterday."

"And _I_ told _you_ that murtlap can't explode. It must have been the powdered moonstone."

It was early evening on the thirtieth of October, 1975. This did not make it a strange night.

What did make it a strange night, however, was the fact that the fifth-year Gryffindor boys' dormitory was full. Normally at this time of night, the regular occupants of the room – James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin – would still be out and about, either in the Common Room downstairs, creating all sorts of ruckus while "practicing for class", or in one of the classrooms about the school, fulfilling yet another detention obligation with any one of their professors.

"No, because I know _I_ added that in the proper dosage."

And yet there they were, in the dormitory, each one scratched, bruised, and dirty from a day's work. James was lying spread-eagled on his bed, staring straight up at the ceiling through his cracked glasses, which he had not yet bothered to repair; Sirius was draped upside-down over the side of his own bed, holding his wand in his mouth like a dog carrying a stick, so that his voice came out slurred when he tried to speak around it; Peter was sitting cross-legged on his bed, leaning his head up against the wall, absently watching his friends bicker; and Remus was kneeling down on the even-dirtier-than-usual floor, making brave but vain attempts to pick up the still-smoldering bits of cauldron that littered the floor.

It had been their first failed attempt at a prank all year.

"Then maybe your jar of fire exploded."

Half an hour before, the so-called "Marauders" had been up to their usual tricks, putting the finishing touches on the special potion they had created in honor of the coming Halloween feast in their dormitory.

"We've used fire in a jar ten million times for stuff like this and it's never happened before."

In the chaos of the first few minutes after the explosion, while Peter and Remus had been attempting to quench the various fires that had sprung up about the room, there had been quite a lot of heated yelling between James and Sirius. Now, twenty minutes later, their energy seemed to have run out and James and Sirius were carrying their argument on in a half-hearted way, more for the sake of blaming each other than anything else.

"Then maybe it was the moonstone reacting _with_ the murtlap."

"In which case, Padfoot, it would have been _your_ faul –"

"Would you two just _shut up_ for a while?" Remus suddenly cut into the bickering in a very final way. He too seemed to have given up, because he then deposited the few acid-spattered cauldron bits that he had managed to pick up into the garbage can (where they continued to fizzle threateningly) and sat down high off the floor on his own bed.

For a few long moments there was a tired, bleak silence, as the boys wordlessly nursed wounds and morale. Then the silence was broken as Sirius said, seemingly out of the blue, "You know where I'd like to be right now?"

"Where?" asked Peter obediently.

"America."

The statement was followed by blank looks from James and Remus and a thoroughly puzzled look from Peter.

"Why do you say that, Sirius?" asked the blond-haired boy.

"'Cause in America," said Sirius, suddenly pulling himself upright, an all-too-familiar mischievous sparkle quivering electrically in his eyes, "they'll be celebrating Mischief Night tonight."

"But Mischief Night is tomorrow," said Peter.

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked James, frowning confusedly at his dark-haired friend.

"I was in America last summer, remember?" said Sirius, voice rising in excitement as his brain whizzed ahead of his mouth at many miles above the speed-limit. "My family was there for some sort of conference or something, and I got out and stayed with that muggle girl for a night, and she told me—"

"Hang on a second," interrupted Remus. "You never told us this story."

"Oh, well it was nothing really, just ran away because I was bored and got myself lost in that great city of theirs – New York, tha's it – and ran into some muggle and she let me stay in 'er flat for the night –"

"Is this going where I think it's going?" asked James, a huge grin spreading across his face at the images already conjured in his adolescent mind –

"Oh yeah, there was that too, but that wasn't the best part – "

"It wasn't?" Peter was now leaning forward towards him, wide-eyed –

"No it wasn't, just lemme tell you – I asked 'er about Halloween there for some reason and she told me that they celebrate it over there too, but then she told me that they also have this holiday on the night before Halloween, Mischief Night, when all the older kids go around smashing pumpkins and egging people and playing pranks –"

"That sounds brilliant!" enthused James, whose grin had widened so that it was spread painfully from ear to ear, giving him a very manic look –

"But I bet with magic it's even better!" Sirius finished off in a dramatic yell.

For a moment the four young wizards sat in silent excitement, the air around them buzzing with electric energy as they each dreamed up their own colossal images of the holiday.

"We ought to go there tonight," said James in a shaking whisper.

"We'll wreak havoc in America!" yelled Sirius, jumping up from his bed.

"Wait," said Remus's voice of reason. "Don't you think this is a bit too… abrupt?

"Not at all, Moony," answered Sirius, taking him by the arm and attempting to drag him down the stairs. "After all, where's the adventure when you've got a map?"

"Very wise," said Remus dryly, holding his ground. He put his hand on Sirius's shoulder to make him stop and listen. "Don't you remember the last time we went off the grounds without a plan?"

"Oh God, yeah," laughed James, who was now getting in position to help Sirius pull their reluctant friend. He unnecessarily held up his hand for all to see: on it there was a deep purple scar – the result of Filch the custodian having noticed them as they crossed onto the grounds after a harrowing trip to Cornwall. "But we won't get caught by Filch this time," he added confidently.

"No," retorted Remus, now fighting against the combined efforts of Sirius and James dragging him. "We'll – oi, stop – find our way back here – ouch – three days from now – stop it – and then – let go – _McGonagall_ will find us and strangle us! Ouch! Get _off_ me!"

"Oh, come on, Moony, where's your spirit of adventure?" asked Peter, always ready to chip in.

Remus stopped struggling as his friends yanked him down the stone staircase towards their collective doom. He was no more willing to come to America now than he had been a moment before, but after four years of living with James, Sirius, and Peter, he knew better than to try and resist the three of them together.

"Oi, where are you guys going?" asked a wary-looking sixth year, as the boys filed through the crowded common room, appearing suspiciously innocent.

James grinned at him playfully for a moment before crowing, "We're heading for America, mates! Anyone want to come?"

He was met by a hearty wave of laughter from the other students, while the sixth year's face turned bright red at the mockery. James waved like a celebrity deigning to acknowledge his fans as they left the room without further question.

James let out his own derisive snort of laughter as they slipped through the Portrait Hole leading to the Common Room and let it shut behind them. "Always tell them the truth, and they'll never believe you," he grinned. Peter laughed giddily in response.

James pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket, where the thin material lay, neatly folded for situations just like this one. Like some glorified matador he flung the folded Invisibility Cloak outwards so that its full volume billowed in front of him, and with a casual flourish, he gracefully draped the whole thing over himself and his friends. The whole group immediately seemed to blink out of existence. Then James turned to Sirius, who was standing on his left. "Onward?" he asked.

"Onward!" Sirius said, and off they went together.

The group made their way easily through the school and the grounds and soon arrived at the spot near the edge of the Forbidden Forest in which Sirius kept his special project: a motorcycle that he had acquired over the summer, which he had bewitched to fly.

"Oh God," said Remus as he saw the motorbike through the trees. "There is no way we're going in that."

"And why is that, Moony?" asked James, looking genuinely curious as to why the smaller boy _wouldn't_ want to ride on the flying motorbike.

"Well," started Remus, trying to be reasonable. "For a start, it wouldn't fit the four of us anyway."

Sirius grinned. "Way ahead of you there, mate."

And immediately, the motorbike stretched before their eyes, until the whole thing looked as though it could easily carry all four adolescent boys comfortably.

Peter fairly squealed with delight. James breathed a very impressed "_Excellent_."

Remus, however, would not be moved. "Have you ever actually flown it long-distance?"

"I've flown it from London to James's house," answered Sirius. He obviously felt that the hundred or so miles between his house and James's house had been enough to prove that the motorcycle could make its way across the Atlantic.

"Oh, come on, Moon," James said exasperatedly, before the other could protest. "It'll be fine, I promise."

Before long all four boys had (willingly or not) slid onto the seat of the motorcycle. They were about to lift into the air when Peter said, almost as an afterthought, "Prongs? What about our prank for tomorrow?"

And James, always ready with a good answer, replied assuredly, "We'll _find_ a perfect prank in America, Wormtail."

"Alright," called Sirius, who was sitting in the front in order to drive. He turned the key and the motor coughed to life. The vehicle's wheels bagan to turn, the machine began to zoom crazily along the ground (Remus's eyes were already closed), the entire motorbike was shaking, and then –

"We have liftoff!"

James gave a delighted whoop as they were swept majestically into the air. In a moment the Marauders were gone like a shooting star, heading for America.


	2. Chapter 2

**CH. 2**

"There it is! Look lads, I can see it!"

It had been nearly three hours since the bewitched motorbike had taken off from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The boys had sailed for what seemed like a blissful eternity over the bleak, leaden-grey waves of an October Atlantic Ocean, feeling the wind blowing with near-windstorm force into them until their faces were chapped and their hair was sticking nearly straight out behind them, plastered in place with the high-flying, salty sea-spray. Of the four, James alone had kept properly awake and zealous through the journey. Twice Peter had fallen asleep, lulled by the sound of splashing water, only to be woken up each time by James screaming in his ear and pointing at whatever dolphin, flying fish, or narwhal that he had spotted this time. Sirius, as they flew, had gone uncharacteristically calm and quiet as he watched the sea that swam below them, but each time James would spot something interesting and give a show of his never-dying enthusiasm, a grin would appear on Sirius's reddened face and he would attend to James's observation with a keen fervor to match, yelling and waving with sparkling eyes. Remus too, had for a time been pacified by the unending watery depths below, staring reflectively, his amber eyes squinted against the beating wind, into the seeming nothingness around them.

Now, as James loudly stated the obvious and jabbed his finger towards the great landmass that was rearing up some miles ahead of them, the unusually calm atmosphere was shattered completely. Three windblown heads shot up to attention to behold the spectacle.

Remus's jaw dropped for a brief moment at the sight of the city: having been raised in what his friends playfully liked to call "Cabin-In-The-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Scotland", he had only been to the city five times in his life. It still amazed him every time he went to London; he could hardly wrap his mind around the idea that there could be so _many_ people in one place. And now he was looking at this American city which, still several miles away, loomed in front of them like a sea-monster, full of huge, rectangular buildings and alive with light in the dark sky; he found himself beginning to feel very, very small in this world.

James gazed at the New World with wide eyes and a grin. He had never traveled much in his youth, and up until a couple of hours ago, he had not even given America much of a thought. But now that Padfoot had mentioned it and its particularly creative holiday traditions, he couldn't imagine why he hadn't thought of coming here sooner. Never did the idea that anything could go wrong on this trip cross his mind, because things never went wrong in the world of the Marauders. Now that he was thinking of it like this, in fact, he realized with a thrill that they were free to go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. The world was an endless field of possibilities, and here they were, at the threshold of it all. He gave a whoop as the city sped towards them, all of its new and wondrous sights spread out before their eyes. This would be a blast, and it was only the start.

Peter was not quite sure what to think about this city when he saw it. Of course he had been to many of the large cities in the United Kingdom before: London, Glasgow, Plymouth, Edinburgh… But in most of these cities he had never seen anything exciting; he was not supposed to leave the hotel building while his father was at his meetings, and when he was alone and without his friends on his father's business trips, he never dared disobey orders. If he had been allowed to go with his mother whenever she went on book-tour, perhaps he would have been able to see some of the sights, but as much as he had always made it clear that he wanted to come with her, she had always made him stay with his father, her ex-husband, whenever she would not be home. So by this age, he was understandably nonplussed at the thought of cities… but perhaps, with Prongs, Padfoot, and Moony around, he would be pleasantly surprised by this city. Prongs, after all, seemed very excited about this American city, which meant that it was going to _have_ to be interesting, by definition. So as James and Sirius whooped and yelled, Peter too joined in.

Sirius felt his heart begin to beat quicker as they approached the city. The familiar feeling of restless, mad exhilaration was once again taking over his mind. This was excitement, this was adventure, this was release, this was deviation from the ordinary, and he was ready to drink it all up. He felt his self-control – so painfully cultivated and retained throughout the school week – beginning to slip away from him. The gears of his mind were rapidly turning – they would, for this one, glorious night, blow this city away. And they were just the people to do it, weren't they? The kings of rebellion, unleashed here, in this country where rebellion seemed thick and sweet in the air, needing only to be nurtured to reach fruition… He leaned forward into the handlebars of the motorbike to gain speed, and he crowded with laughter – just for laughter's sake – as the motorbike took them on a direct course into the heart of the city.

Unbeknownst to the young crew, there was trouble on the ground in an office building in the city. It was the kind of mayhem that the Marauders usually loved to watch among the professors at school: they probably would have loved to be sitting in that office building watching the fiasco play out in front of them, had they not been so busy causing all of the trouble in the first place.

At the center of the chaos was a young air-traffic controller by the name of Ralph Stulti.

It had been just after sundown when Stulti had noticed it: a small, odd-shaped blip in the radar, just inside a spot that he had been directing the planes around. At first he had wondered whether it was only the radar picking up a large bird flying home for the night; but then another plane flew into view and he realized that the unidentified object was much too large to be a bird, even if it was a large bird. Besides, the object was so misshapen…

It must have been a Russian fighter plane.

"Sir!" he called to his boss. "Sir, there is a –" But then he stopped. The words "Russian fighter jet" seemed a little too urgent to him – he still had his lingering doubts that it was a bird after all, and he did not want to appear paranoid in front of his boss and co-workers. So after a short pause, he found some less-urgent words leaving his mouth: "– a blip of some sort on my radar."

As it turned out, he had not crossed the limit of urgency with his words, but rather he had crossed the line into triviality. His boss, Mr. Tripin, a bald man of forty-something with lines on his forehead and a mouth that was constantly pulled back into a ridiculously strained grimace, had been dealing with "blips" on the radar screens every second of every day since the time he had agreed to work this cursed job. Normally the blips were no more than clouds or birds picked up by the radar. Certainly if he had seen this large moving object he would have paid more attention to it. As soon as he heard the call he busily turned to one of his other employees and proceeded to give her a five-minute pep-talk on staying up for her whole nightly shift. And then when he was done he did the same to his next employee.

When he finally came to Stulti a while later, he wished, with another grimace and a deepening of lines on his forehead, that he had not procrastinated.

The straight, tall, rectangular buildings of Staten Island were marching under the motorbike like an enchanted army of mismatched sentinels.

All of the boys were watching the ever-growing city with wonder. All except Remus, who was quite determinedly staring anywhere but downwards. In the time since they had ascended toward the cloud line above the city, his face had taken on that pallid, strained expression that he usually only wore around the time of the Full Moon. But on this night, the sickly look did not come from any nascent transformation; Remus was deathly afraid of heights.

This was, in part, why it was Remus who first saw the strange-looking plane sailing towards their airborne vessel on a cloud.

The boys may have noticed it sooner if they had been able to see the chaotic atmosphere within the Air Traffic Control offices. The military had been informed by a wearily-heroic Mr. Tripin of the unknown object, and there was now a jet zooming in to apprehend the illegal aliens. All eyes were on this jet.

"Look!" said Remus as loudly as he could over the noise to his fellow shipmates. "There's a plane heading straight for us!"

Within the jet were two military personnel, both clad in American uniforms and staring heroically, determinedly, and rather blankly out at their enemy.

"No problem there!" yelled Sirius quickly, as if he couldn't be bothered right now. Immediately the motorbike disappeared into invisibility from under them, so that they appeared to be straddling the air, flying effortlessly of their own accord. Remus gave a slight gasp and shut his eyes.

"Oh." Sirius frowned briefly at what once were the handlebars. "That was s'posed to make us turn invisible too…" Then he was back to grinning at the city below him. Evidently the fact that the jet that was gaining speed behind them did not matter much to him.

In the military jet, the two soldiers blinked as the enemy vessel seemed to part itself, spreading into four tiny forms that wavered and vibrated in the air close together.

"Birds," grunted one of them out of the corner of his mouth.

"Mmm," growled the other. But he did not stop heading the jet straight towards the supposed wild things. Just in case it was some strange disguise used by the Russian military, after all.

"Padfoot!" yelled Remus, now clinging to Sirius's back in front of him with both hands. "They're going to crash into us!"

Only now did Sirius, James, and Peter turn to look back at the fighter jet behind them, which was now coming so close to them that they could hear the roar of motors over their own revving motor and the howling wind that zipped by them. "Ah," said James sagely. "Maybe we should be heading down about now, mates."

Sirius only shrugged, and down they went.

The jet passed over the spot in which the invisible motorbike had been flying only a moment before. "Good," thought both military personnel. "That's one less flock of birds crowding our airways."

At the Air Traffic Control office, cheers resounded throughout the room as the mission was pronounced accomplished.

"We've just got to remember we left it here," James was now stating as Sirius turned the ignition off the once-again-visible motorbike at the end of a secluded alleyway.

"Right," said Sirius, now quite businesslike. "Now let's get going!"

"See lads?" yelled James as they followed Sirius out of the alleyway at a run. "Just one quick ride and we're here in – what's the city called again, Padfoot?"

"New York!" Sirius yelled back, as they emerged onto the brightly-lit street.


End file.
